stay away from lonely places
by i set my sims on fire
Summary: Save me from the nothing I've become - Lily/Teddy. High T for language and mature themes.


**WARNING: this fic contains bad language, and sensitive subjects such as a physically and emotionally abusive relationship. If you could be triggered or offended by use of these topics, please do not read!**

stay away from lonely places

_Wake me up inside_

_Call my name, and save me from the dark_

_Bid my blood to run before I come undone_

_Save me from the nothing I've become_

- bring me to life, evanescence

The pain itself is excruciating.

You feel it crawling through you, starting at your bony ankles and creeping up, filling you with this unbearable pain. You fall to your knees, convulsing in agony, tears beginning to prick at the corners of your hazel eyes, before rolling down your cheeks, flushed as red as your hair in pain.

'Stop,' you whimper. 'Please.'

You collapse, breathless and in agony.

/

You blame yourself, at times.

You sit, cross-legged, on your bedroom floor, back at your parents house. You're reading through pages and pages of your old diaries, skimming old letters and school work you've found in a big cardboard box in the attic.

Your parents are packing to leave this house, now. You and your brother's have all moved out, your parents don't need four bedrooms anymore. They're moving further away from the city, to a peaceful house, ready for retirement in a few years.

You don't want them to leave. This is the house you grew up in, and the bedroom you slept in every night until you were eleven and left to Hogwarts. The walls are still turquoise, the wallpaper peeling in places, and that big white wardrobe that always used to be perfect for hide and seek is still sat in the corner, fairy and princess stickers scattered over every inch of it. The carpet is fading into grey, the mirror on the far-end wall is cracked.

You never used to believe in superstition, but you do now. Maybe that broken mirror is bringing you all these years of bad luck. Maybe it's karma, for being a bit of a bitch in Hogwarts. Maybe there's some supernatural force out there that has it out for you- you don't know. You don't know anything anymore.

You rip the masking tape off of another brown box. Your mother won't be happy when she comes up later and sees that you've opened up all of the boxes, but you figure she can just charm it all back into place. You would, except you don't have the energy, and Sam is expecting you back, soon.

You pull out another hand-full of papers. A smile crosses your face as you run your finger over blotchy, age-old words scrawled onto a piece of parchment. You study the signature, imagining his kind, crinkled eyes, and his hair tickling your neck when he gave you Lily-cuddles as a child.

Teddy.

It's letters from when he first went to Hogwarts, you were only a child, but he never forgot you. He used to write more or less every week. As he got older, the letters grew fewer. You remember crying when he was seventeen and you were six and he'd forget to write, nine times out of ten.

In his almost illegible inky scrawl, he tells you about Gryffindor and Quidditch and how much you're going to love Hogwarts, Lily-flower, and he draws little illustrations. You remember your mother sitting you on her lap and reading you out all of his letters in a fond voice, and you'd stab at his crappy drawings with your thumb and smile all over.

You let out a shaky breath, holding the parchment closer to your chest. You long to be six again, when Teddy would cradle you in his arms and stroke your red hair when you cried, tickling you until you'd eventually crack a smile and begin to giggle, and the way he'd play with you for hours, bringing your toys to life, even though you were an annoying little girl and he was a teenager with much better things to do.

You trace your index finger over his name, gently, as if it'll summon him right here, right now, and he'd pick you up and kiss your hair and make all the bad things go away, the way he used to. But he's not and he can't, so with shaking hands you read letter after letter, refusing to let teardrops slide down your cheeks.

/

You can't sleep.

The digital clock on your bedside table reads that it's two am, and next to you, Sam is fast asleep. His gentle breathing and closed-shut eyelids make his face look almost angelic in the dim amber lamplight that fills the bedroom, except you know he's anything but and it makes you shiver a little.

You pull yourself up, out of bed, making sure not to step on the creaking floorboards so that you don't wake him. Sam is rarely kind on a good nights sleep- you'd hate to see him woken up in the middle of the night. It wouldn't be pretty.

You tiptoe out of the room, closing the door shut gently so that it barely clicks behind you, and then you allow yourself to breathe properly. You squeeze your eyes shut to stop the tears, because your stomach hurts and you feel ill, and you want a certain metamorphagus to wind his arms around you and tell you it'll be alright.

But you haven't seen Teddy for years, not since you were a badly-behaved Slytherin with wild eyes and a drinking problem. Goosebumps litter your fair skin as you remember those days, the way all those boys would use you for sex, and how you detached yourself from your family and smoked like a chimney for days on end.

You were Lily Potter, angry-eyed and reckless, only good for a quick shag, and Teddy was a newly-single man, tired and worn, his turquoise hair a mess and his eyes strangely empty. You came home, one Christmas, and Teddy did too after months of disappearing, needing to get away from the headlines and the glares from the Weasley's after a messy break up with Victoire.

You never did find out what happened to the golden couple of the family and the Wizarding press. You were too busy crying your eyes out after Al called you a slut, sick of trying to break down your walls.

You'd retreated to your bedroom after mouthing off at him for a good ten minutes, and broke down, pressing your face into your soft pillow to smother the noise. Teddy had chased after you, found you alone, eyes red-rimmed, and held you tight.

You hadn't seen him for years- detaching yourself from your family also meant cutting the little contact you still had with him completely, but he silently cuddled you close anyway and brushed your hair out of your face anyway. You didn't push him away because he was Teddy and he didn't have to say a word.

You told him everything in broken down sobs and he murmured that it'd be alright, holding you for hours until the tears stopped and he tickled you like you were still five, and when you went back to school you managed to knuckle down and pass your exams and you didn't slip off into broom cupboards and the room of requirement with boys you barely knew anymore. But then he went away again, and you barely heard from him for years, and now you're nearing twenty-one in a stable (fucked up) relationship and you try to stop yourself from dreaming about him in the occasional nights where you can sleep- but you never can.

You make yourself a cup of coffee, nevermind that you've run out of milk and you don't really like it black. You gulp down the bitterness and hope it washes the hurt away.

/

Slowly, you detach again.

It's not even your fault, this time. Sam doesn't get the whole close-knit family thing, and he doesn't seem to particularly like it- you've been together for nearly a year, now, you've brought him along to several family reunions, and James and Al glared daggers at him, simply because he's your boyfriend and you're too young to be living with another guy- nevermind the fact that you're nearing twenty-one.

It's just- the Weasley's and Potter's are loud and colourful and happy, and Sam is generally moody and quiet and sullen. Lucy told you in a hushed whisper that she thought he was a tosser, and even Nana Molly's smiles became strained by the end of the evening.

Sam doesn't like them much, either. He sneers about the family fame and raises his eyebrows at the jokes and flirts with your cousins when he thinks you're not paying attention, and it hurts, but not as much as it will if you dare to bring it up with him. Your cousins raise their eyebrows at the way you turn meek when he asks for- no, demands- something, because you're Lily and meek and mild is definitely not you.

Your Dad made polite conversation with him, and later when you'd apparated back home he snorted and said '_he's_ Harry Potter?' and the part of you that will always love your Dad and the one streak of bravery within you sparked and told him to shut the fuck up and he yelled and you yelled back and he slapped you across the face.

You slept on the sofa and cried yourself to sleep.

Nana Molly owls you and asks if you and Sam would like to come over to dinner on Sunday with the rest of the family, and you ask Sam and he sneers and tells you there's no way in hell he's going back there, and you're not either, and you're too tired to argue with him so you don't go. You don't go time after time after time.

Your family grows increasingly concerned.

You sign your letters with 'love you, Lily xx' and illustrate smiley faces and tells you that you're just a little busy, work is so hectic, full schedule, no time. You feed off excuses one after another and Sam drinks firewhiskey night after night.

You tell yourself it's not his fault, but you know that it is, because he doesn't need another drink and he's had a bad day but so have you; he doesn't need to be such an arse and he sure as hell doesn't need to take every little thing out on you and your pale skin.

(You buy muggle concealer to hide the bruises, but can never quite hide the blue-black stains that shadow over the white of your skin and so you take countless days of work and hide out in your bedroom.)

Rose sends you an owl.

_'Lily, we all miss you. When are you coming home?_

_Please come to Nana's with us on Saturday- Teddy's coming. You can even bring your boyfriend if you want to. We promise we'll be nice._

_It feels like we're losing you again. Please come._

_Rose x'_

You casually mention it to Sam and he scoffs.

'No, Lily, we have no business there.'

And you scowl. 'They're my family, Sam.'

'You don't need them. You have me. You love me, don't you?' And his voice takes on that edge that you hate that means business.

'I do love you,' you say, desperately. 'But I love them too, and-'

'We're not going,' Sam snaps. 'And that's it.'

'I'm going,' you tell him. 'You don't have to, but I am.'

He tells you that you're not fucking going, and he hits you, hard, as tears roll down your porcelain cheeks. But you're Lily Luna Potter, and you have a habit of getting yourself into shit situations so come Saturday, you apparate to the Burrow whilst he's still at work, and you know you'll regret it when you get home and he's waiting, drunk on both alcohol and anger, but the thought of seeing Teddy again stops you from caring.

You walk into the Burrow with your head held high and you hope that nobody notices the red-rim around your eyelids and the dark rings that underline them. You wear a black jumper to hide the yellowing bruises littering your arms, and hope that they won't notice because you love Sam, you do, it's just there's always going to be Teddy and Sam fucks you up so bad but you can't leave because you're scared.

Your family smothers you in cuddles and kisses and love, and you put on your best brave face, smiling wide at all of them and it's only been three months but shit, it feels like it's been years and they're acting as if it has, too.

'No Sam, today, Lils?' James asks casually, and shit, you wonder if they noticed the way you just tensed up or the fear that flashed through your eyes at just the mention of his name, and-

'No, he had to work,' you lie, brightly, and Al's eyes narrow because they're your brothers and James is fiercely protective whilst Al can read you like a fucking book. 'He's sorry he couldn't make it, though.'

'I'm not sorry he couldn't be here,' Molly says, with a raised eyebrow and fuck, everybody's looking at you. 'Sorry, Lily, but he seems like a bit of a brat.'

'No, he's not,' your voice seems strangely high-pitched. 'He's a nice guy, honest.'

Except no he isn't and why are you still lying to yourself, you silly little girl?

'If you say so,' Al says, with his arms folded and you wish he wouldn't look at you like that.

'Where's Teddy?' you ask abruptly, not-so-subtly trying to completely change the subject.

'He's on his way,' James tells you and his eyes are sparkling because none of you have seen him for _months_ and he's almost-but-not-quite family and you ache to see him.

You look around and Vic is here and her face pales, even though she has a new boyfriend and it's been almost four fucking years, anyway.

'Oh, good,' you tell James, as the rest of your family descends into conversation- you're all adults now but things never really change, and yeah. 'I was worried I'd missed him.'

James grins. 'You've always been his favourite, Lils, he wouldn't leave without seeing you first.'

And something in his words makes your stomach do flips and this is wrong because you love Sam and if Sam could read the thoughts that race through your head when you hear the name _Teddy Lupin_ he'd go all out and fucking kill you.

It's half way through the meal when he finally arrives, you'd forgotten just how much you love your Nana's cooking and the food melts in your mouth and it tastes so good, but then you hear the front door open and-

'Is that Teddy?' from a nurturing Nana Molly, and you're out of your seat before anyone else and then he's _there_ and his hair is as vibrant and turquoise as you remember and he's actually here and you throw yourself into his arms.

'Teddy!' you wrap your arms tightly around him, unable to help the girlish squeal from escaping your lips and he looks slightly startled but he holds you tight, anyway- and why the fuck are there tears in the corners of your eyes, begging to be let out?

You blink several times, shutting them in. Teddy releases you from his grip as your cousins emerge into the hall.

'Teddy!'

'We thought you weren't gonna show up!'

'It's been ages, Ted!'

'Where the hell have you _been_?'

He is smothered in love and showered with hugs and slaps on the back, and you pretend not to notice the way his smile looks strained and his eyes are worn.

'Sorry,' he laughs, hollowly. 'I needed to get away for a while.'

'A _while_?' Roxie echoes. 'It's been over a bloody _year_, Teddy!'

'You weren't even home for Christmas.'

'I know, I know,' he scratches his head, awkwardly. 'I'm sorry.'

'Ted,' Nana Molly's voice ascends from the hall. She smiles kindly at him, possibly even more nurturing in her older age. 'Come and help yourself to some food, dear. You look terribly skinny.'

You think she's right, he looks skinny and worn and quite frankly a wreck- but he's Teddy and his eyes change colour and his hair is the brightest blue and there's something magical about him, okay? Something even more magical than the way the staircases at Hogwarts move and the fact that you're a witch.

You can't put your finger on it, but- he's Teddy, and he gives the best hugs in the world, and you grew up seeing him as your brother and you should probably be more concerned about these thoughts that are anything _but_ sibling-like, but you're Lily and quite frankly you don't give a fuck.

The smiling faces and the familiar, comforting sound of your family talking and laughing amongst themselves and the fact that _Teddy_ is here, shooting you sad smiles from across the dining table manages to chase the building fears and worrying thoughts of Sam, waiting for you back at home with those cold eyes and balled-up fists.

You happily allow yourself to quieten down and zone out until you hear your name mentioned-

'-Lily's got a boyfriend now, too, like a _real_ one- she's living with him.'

And Teddy, who looked a little lost in his thoughts too, his eyes snapped open and he's staring at you.

'What?'

'Sam. He's a prick,' Al says, bluntly.

He's lucky that it's just the Grandkids attending this meal, because nevermind that he's twenty-two now, Ginny would go mental.

Teddy looks at you. Your cheeks glow, and you look away.

'I'm happy for you, Lils,' he says gently, and he sounds sad, but you know that he means it. 'I hope he's a nice guy.'

'Oh, he's anything but-' Hugo starts, and do you really have to go through this again?

'Well he'd better be treating you right,' Teddy says seriously.

You smile weakly.

'He is,' you say, and you have to ask yourself why you're still lying.

You catch Teddy's eye from across the table.

/

You hold a tissue over your nose, bending down over the sink and watching the blood drip, drip, drip into the porcelain white.

Sam is in bed. He wasn't happy with you when you got home, way too late when the streetlamps lit up the city and the sky was too dark. He stood with his arms folded and his eyes mean, and you wanted to disappear then and there, go back to the Burrow, back to your family, back to Teddy.

'Where have you been?' he'd hissed, and you'd meekly told him you'd gone to see your family as if he didn't know, and he glowered at you.

'I thought I told you that you weren't to go?' he yelled.

'They're my family!'

And he told you that he didn't fucking care and he hit you. Hit you over and over and-

He went to bed, stinking of alcohol and muttering 'bitch' under his breath as tears welled up in your eyes and scarlet dripped from your nose, and, shit, you've made another fucking mess.

The bleeding stops but the tears don't, and a purple-black bruise is forming on your left eye, grazing the skin and it doesn't belong there.

You don't understand.

He loves you.

He saw the happiness shining in your eyes, the light that he had dulled finally starting to spark again. But he got rid of it.

You look at yourself in the mirror. You're a fucking mess.

Pale skin, stained with little blood-drops from the nosebleed _he_ gave to you, a black eye forming. Your hair is tangled, messy. Your cheeks glistening with tears, and your eyes blood-shot. Wide-open. Fearful.

You're so scared.

You clean up the sink, flushing red-littered tissues down the toilet. You retreat to the living room and curl up on the sofa, hugging your knees and cradeling yourself and pretending it's all okay when it isn't.

From the open window, an owl swoops in. It drops a letter into your lap.

_Can I see you again? I've missed you, Lils, and you seem sad._

_Teddy xx_

Your heart jumps painfully, because if Sam won't let you see your family there's not a hope in hell he'd allow you to slip off and see another guy because he's a self-centered bastard.

You pretend it's not his fault. You'll keep pretending until the end.

You sigh, defeatedly, but write Teddy a swift reply saying to meet Monday, 10'o'clock, the Leaky couldren. Sam will be at work. You're prepared to take your chances because it's Teddy and you love miss him.

/

Sam goes to work at eight am, Monday morning, hungover and in a bad mood. You pretend to be asleep, lying on the side of the bed furthest from him and hugging your pillow tightly. He kisses you on the head, stroking your red hair before he goes.

You don't understand why.

You dress quickly, not too fancy- Sam will suspect. You end up wearing your oldest pair of jeans and a jumper and you don't look like Lily Luna Potter, you just look like Lily, a broken girl and you suppose that's who you are now.

You're not sure who you hate the most- yourself, or him.

You apparate to Diagon Alley ten minutes early and hurry to the Leaky Couldron, finding a table in the darkest corner of the pub. You don't want random witches and wizards approaching you today, asking for autographs, wizarding press snapping photos.

Then again, you don't look like you. You've desperately applied as much makeup as you can to hide the bruising on your eye, but it hasn't quite worked. Your hair is unwashed and tangled, tied in a messy bun so that you have vivid red locks falling in your face and obscuring your vision. You smooth your fringe over your eye.

Teddy enters the pub, looking dishevelled and maybe he has a similar worry of being plastered all over Witch Weekly, because his hair is a subtle dark brown and his eyes grey, and he's dressed in an old hoodie and faded jeans.

He smiles at you as he sits down.

'Hi,' he says.

Your stomach does backflips.

'Hello, Teddy.'

He pauses for a moment, before leaning across the table.

'Lily, what's going on?'

You blink. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

'What do you mean?'

'You're becoming distant again,' he tells you. 'I've been talking to your family. They all think that this boyfriend- Sam, that he's bad for you.'

You want to laugh because he has no idea.

'You look so sad, Lily. You don't look like you anymore.'

You tense up. 'What's going on with you?' you ask. 'You look so sad all the time.'

He shakes his head. 'This isn't about me. This is about you.'

You sigh. 'I don't want to talk about it, Ted.'

His eyebrows shoot up. 'So there's something to talk about?'

'Yes. No. I don't- I don't know, Teddy.'

'Lily,' he says, all serious, and his eyes turn hazel as they meet yours. 'You can trust me.'

You shake your head. You crack a smile. It doesn't quite reach your eyes.

'I'm fine,' you lie.

You can't trust him. You can't trust anyone.

He looks at you, really, really looks at you, still half-lent across the entirety of the small wooden table. He leans closer, slightly. His hands shakily move upwards, and you forget how to breathe. You forget everything, on impulse, he's so close, so close-

His hand moves up, sweeping your unruly side fringe out of your eyes-

His eyes widen, he lets out a little gasp.

'Lily,' he says, and he sounds so strange, what just happened? His voice sounds stangled. 'What the _fuck_?'

Your hair falls back into place as he lets go, falling over your eye, over the bruise-

FUCK.

'What, Ted?' you ask, desperately trying to sound clueless- fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

'Your eye,' he says and his voice is trembling-

'Oh, right,' you say, and you give a little laugh but it sounds like more of a sob- 'I walked into a door, at home, I'm such a clutz-'

'Is someone hurting you?' he hisses.

'No-'

'Is it that bastard boyfriend of yours?'

'No, he wouldn't-'

Your eyes are fearful. His are angry. More alive than you've seen them in a while.

'Lily,' he says, and he doesn't sound like Teddy. 'You're lying to me.'

/

You get home and you cry, for what seems like hours.

You left, Teddy, leaving him to spin out assumptions that you wish wish wish weren't true but fuck, they are, and he knows.

Because he knows you better than anybody in the world; he knows that when you lie, your nostrils flare, just a little bit, and when you're desperate your voice cracks a bit and when you're scared, you laugh, nervously, but it sounds much more like a strangled sob.

FUCK.

You're scared. You've never been so scared, because you know they'll beat him bloody because Teddy will tell-

You can't trust him, you can't trust anyone.

You pace around in the flat for what feels like hours. But it's only been minutes.

You're terrified, your hands are shaking.

You pour yourself a glass of firewhiskey but your hands shake and the liquid splashes against the dirty kitchen counter.

You knock back the drink, gulping it quickly down your throat and it kind of burns and that makes it better. You don't know why. It just does.

You pour yourself another glass. And another. And then you just drink straight from the bottle until it slips, right from your shaking hands and crashes against the linoleum floor, exploding into a thousand shards.

You start to cry, then, tears rolling down your cheeks and glistening in the too-bright light, and you don't know why but you pick up a shard of the broken bottle and dig it deep into your arm until bright beads of blood appear and it's trickeling down your skin.

You throw the shard back onto the floor. You turn on your heel, fleeing the kitchen and then you're in your bedroom, collapsing onto your bed but it smells like Sam and it's terrifying-

You smother your face in your pillow, rocking back and forth as you cry.

You hear a key in the door.

It's turning.

And then a click.

'What the _hell_?'

FUCK.

/

'I'm sorry!' you cry. No. Scream.

'What the _fuck_ Lily?' Sam roars, and he's so angry and he's drunk- where the fuck did the time go?

'I'm sorry!'

'What have you fucking _done_?'

'I- I- saw Teddy today-'

'Who the fuck is Teddy?'

'He saw-'

'What did you _do_?'

'Please don't h-hurt me-'

/

The cruciatus curse sounds wrong coming from his lips, for despite all the beatings and the hell he's put you through, you didn't think he could.

But you were wrong.

/

The pain itself is excruciating.

You feel it crawling through you, starting at your bony ankles and creeping up, filling you with this unbearable pain. You fall to your knees, convulsing in agony, tears beginning to prick at the corners of your hazel eyes, before rolling down your cheeks, flushed as red as your hair in pain.

'Stop,' you whimper. 'Please.'

You collapse, breathless and in agony.

/

When you wake up, you're in your old bedroom.

The turquoise wallpaper is peeling, the once-white carpet fading into a shabby grey. The wardrobe doors are both wide open, empty aside from a few discarded clothing hangers. Your old toys, boxes, they're all gone.

It's empty apart from the wardrobe and the bed, and you.

You're so scared.

Everything hurts. Especially your head.

The door opens. Your heart races, until you see that it's just your father with sad eyes, such sad eyes, and a kind smile.

'Lily, sweetheart, you're awake.'

You begin to cry.

'It's alright,' he says, sitting on the end of your bed. It doesn't matter that you're twenty years old, suddenly, he's beckoning for you to come closer and so you shift towards him, and he entangles you in a bone-crushing hug. 'It's going to be alright now.'

He holds you tight for a while, rocking you back and forth as you cry.

You're falling to pieces.

'Why didn't you tell us, Lils?' he murmurs, stroking back your red hair.

You shiver.

'I was scared,' you admit, through your sobs. 'I'm still scared.'

'Why did you let him do that to you?'

You realize then that your father's got tears pricking in his eyes, too.

'I don't know,' you shudder. 'I just- I don't-'

'Shh,' your father puts his finger to your lips. 'Calm down, Lily,'

'What happened to him?'

Your dad holds her breath.

You find out that Teddy and your brother's beat Sam bloody, and he's facing time in Azkaban for illegal use of the Cruciatus Curse.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You are not sure what to feel. You love him, kind of. You're not sure what you feel anymore.

You don't know much about anything anymore, really.

You get a lot of visitors, few at a time.

James and Al spend half of their time at your bedside, and your mother, Ginny, she cries almost as much as you do, holding you tight and stroking your hair the way your father did but differently because she's your Mum, and despite the trouble you've gotten into in the past and how you've not always gotten along she's always been there for you.

You're still scared.

/

Teddy comes to see you, one day.

It's been a week- you've finally stopped spending all day in bed, getting up to wash your hair and eating again.

You're definitely not fixed, but maybe you were never broken.

You're still scared. You're scared of the way you feel; that pain sent tremors through your body and made your spine feel as if it was on fire. It's indescribable.

You're scared of what might happen when Sam leaves Azkaban.

He's evil, they tell you. Pure fucking evil.

You're sat cross-legged on your bedroom floor when he opens the door.

His hair is bright blue. Your favourite colour. His eyes are hazel.

'Hey,' he says, and he sits down, next to you.

'Hey.'

You're reading through his old letters again. He peers over your shoulder, and he smiles. 'I remember sending those.'

You give him a shaky smile.

'Your letters used to be the highlight of my week, you know.'

He chuckles. 'I loved writing them, believe it all not, despite the fact you couldn't read.'

'Mum and Dad would always read them to me,' you tell him softly. 'And I liked the drawings. The drawings made them special. They were such a you-thing to do.'

'I'm glad you liked them.'

'I did. A lot.'

There is a brief silence.

'I'm so sorry, Lily.'

You turn to look at him, curiously tilting your head.

'What for?'

'Everything. The way he treated you. It wasn't right.'

'You did nothing wrong,' you argue. 'It was Sam.'

'I should've done something-'

'You were half-way across the world, you couldn't have known.'

'I should have been here.'

You shake your head. 'It wouldn't have made a difference.'

'I should've saved you,' his voice cracks.

'Teddy,' you say, and your voice is barely audible. 'You did.'

You kiss him forcefully, then, melting your lips against his fiercely and he tastes of bitter coffee and smoke and Teddy and you wonder if you're dreaming.

He kisses you back, his hands running through your hair and you wrap your arms around his neck, breathing into the kiss as he pulls you closer, closer-

'Lily,' he says against your lips, breathlessly. 'Lily, I love you.'

'I love you, too,' you whisper, before you crash your lips against his again.

You're still not okay.

You're still scared- fucking terrified, you can still see his cold eyes in the back of your mind and feel that agonizing pain crawling through your body- but Sam is gone and Teddy is here, and you have your family.

And maybe, someday, you'll learn not to be afraid anymore.

_Save me from the nothing I've become_

**If you liked this at all, I'd love you forever if you could leave a review.**


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